When the dinner was over, Boatswain Joe was in no haste to leave the restaurant; but he returned to the table and ordered a drink, having seen Dennis and Florence Hathaway depart. As he had already paid for the meal, giving the waiter a handsome pourboire, no objection was made to his remaining as long as he wished. He stated that he expected a telephone-call.  
Nearly an hour later, indeed, the waiter summoned him to the lobby. Ericksen took up the telephone-receiver and said: "Aye, matey!" Then he listened. Again he said: "Aye, matey!" and hung up the receiver.
 
He took the elevator to the street and briskly walked the two and a half blocks to a down-town hotel. It appeared that he was stopping here, for he went directly to the desk, demanded his key, then vanished in the elevator.
 
Fifteen minutes later a man inquired at the desk for Mr. Ericksen, and was shown to the room occupied by Boatswain Joe. This second man was as peculiar¹ in appearance as the red-haired boatswain. He was rather small, very dapper in looks, and wore a tight little moustache on his upper lip. His movements were swift, agile², extremely alert. One would have said that he was a Frenchman, although upon entering Ericksen's room he spoke³ in good English.
 
"Ah, Boatswain! Well done, my friend; you described them excellently."
 
Ericksen regarded him with a twisted smile.
 
"Then you followed them?"
 
"Certainly. They went to a place on the North Side, a girls' school where she teaches; presently he came out and walked to a lodging-house on North Clark Street. I followed him inside and engaged a room adjoining his, which I shall occupy this afternoon. He is on the third étage—what you call—yes, flight! Upstairs."
 
"Good, Dumont." Ericksen ran his fingers through his tousled red hair. "We've made quick work of it, eh? Got here two days ago, and ready to slip our cable to-morrow night. 'Move sharp,,' says the Skipper; 'crack on all sail!' And we've done it. Hey? You've got your stuff all complete?"
 
Dumont lighted a cigarette and blew a thin cloud, nodding.
 
"All done. Everything is to be ready for me to-morrow morning. I shall inspect it; then it will be packed in a special suitcase, ready for the shipment."
 
"Good. We're leaving to-morrow night at eight bells or thereabouts. Get your ticket in the morning, and check the stuff on it. Sure it's what the Skipper ordered?"
 
Dumont inspected him with a sleepy cattish smile.
 
"Me, my friend, I make no mistakes. Ah, that skipper of ours! He is a marvel⁴, a great man! It is not every man who can improve upon the so-wonderful Dumas! But this our skipper, he does so—pouf! Like that. To him—it is nothing at all."
 
"I dunno about that there Dumaw," returned Ericksen. "I used to know a guy o' that name, a nigger mate on the Columbia packet out o' Singapore——"
 
Dumont chuckled⁵. "Worry not your so red head, my friend! Now, suppose you have the goodness to explain? Who is this man with the big body and the dangerous eyes?"
 
"Dangerous, rats!" Ericksen snorted. "On his uppers, he is. Ran foul⁶ o' law-sharks an' got laid on his beam-ends. He's suspicious; that's all. He and the lady are goin' to get spliced⁷, see? Or they think they are. His name's Dennis. He means to go West with us."
 
 
 
The sleepy eyes of Dumont suddenly opened. They became very black and flashing. His white teeth showed beneath his tiny moustache in a smile.
 
"Oh, I see! It is in that direction the land lies! Well, let him come. Let our so-wonderful skipper take care of him!"
 
Ericksen shook his head. "Nope. Skipper says: 'Boatswain, don't you bring no barnacles along! Bring that young lady—and no barnacles.' Skipper knowed what he was about; strike me blind if he didn't! So Mr. Dennis he stays here."
 
Dumont regarded his companion with an admiring air.
 
"Ah, you have the head, my friend! You have not the looks, perhaps, but the head——"
 
"What's the matter with my looks, Frenchy?" demanded Ericksen suddenly, regarding the smaller man with steady eyes. "Come, now! Step aft an' speak it out, you! What's the matter with 'em?"
 
"Nothing in particular—merely the general aspect." And Dumont cocked his head on one side in pretended survey. Then he broke into laughter. "Drôle! You cannot afford to fight with me, eh? No. And you know better. Eh? I have always desired, my friend, to get my finger in that left eye of yours; it looks so devilish! I always wondered how the socket⁸ would look—if there were not a little devil sitting there, couchant!"
 
Ericksen changed countenance⁹ suddenly, and sat back in his seat. Behind those jesting words of Dumont's there lay a grotesque¹⁰ speculation—an earnestness, even! The dapper little man assumed a frightful¹¹ air, an air of abnormality. One sensed that he spoke of tearing out a man's eye with calm enjoyment¹², as though—as though he had done it before this.
 
"You're right, hearty¹⁴," said Ericksen, wetting his lips. "Right-o! No trouble in the after cabin, and there'll be none forward. What were we speakin' of? Oh, yes! Dennis. Well, you go and occupy that room to-night, and do your business to-morrow morning, then go back there. Dennis will mess with me an' the lady to-morrow noon, see? You get me a scrap¹⁵ of his fist—or better, take a squint¹⁶ at it and copy this here entry in the log."
 
Ericksen took from the table a paper bearing a few lines of writing, on which he had been engaged when Dumont entered, and passed it to his friend. The latter scrutinised the writing, and chuckled softly.
 
"Oh! For the lady, eh? Ah, what a head you have! It is wasted upon you, my friend. It should have gone with such intelligence as mine."
 
"You lay off them personal remarks, Frenchy," snapped Ericksen suddenly.
 
"Aye, matey," retorted the other with mocking air. "Well? What next?"
 
"You telephone me here right after noon mess. I'll be able to give you Dennis' afternoon programme then. You've got to stop him from taking that train to-morrow night—an' stop him hard! Don't forget to take all his money, either—strip him to the bone."
 
Dumont shrugged¹⁷. "What would you? Here in Chicago are the police, and I like them not. It is not as if we were aboard the Pelican¹⁸, my friend."
 
"Oh, don't kill him," snapped Ericksen impatiently. "Merely a good stiff jolt¹⁹ that will leave him on his back a few days. And do it at the last minute, too. 'Take no chances, Boatswain,' says the Skipper, 'and if there's any wind in sight, get your top-canvas down.' So do it at the last minute, and then get the train. Have a taxi waiting."
 
"All right." Dumont straightened up. "Let's go see a picture-show, eh?"
 
Ericksen assented²⁰ with a grunt²¹.
 
 
 
Promptly²² at one o'clock on Monday, Boatswain Joe was waiting in the lobby of the Royton restaurant, when Tom Dennis and Florence were deposited by the elevator. With a cheerful grin on his freckled²³ features, Ericksen approached them.
 
"Good day to you. 'Two bells,' says you, and two bells it is, all shipshape! It's fine and rosy²⁴ ye look, ma'am!"
 
"Thank you, Mr. Ericksen." And under his light-blue predatory eyes the girl blushed as she shook hands. "I've been shopping this morning, and that always makes a woman happy, you know!"
 
They entered the breakfast-room, where the waiter, mindful of Ericksen's tip, led them to a table by one of the front windows overlooking the Art Institute and the sparkling blue lake front.
 
"Does it remind you of the sea?" Tom Dennis motioned toward the blue horizon, and smiled at the sailor.
 
"In a way, yes. It looks like the sea down south, under the Line."
 
"You've been in the South Seas?" asked the girl quickly. Ericksen met her gaze, and seemed a trifle embarrassed.
 
"Yes'm, oncet or twicet. I been whalin' with Cap'n Pontifex, you know, all us whalers work off Lower California and across to the islands 'fore¹³ going north—that is, we used to. Nowadays things change. 'There's no tellin' at all,' says the Skipper, 'what kind of a wind is rising these days.' And Skipper's right."
 
"You seem to like your skipper." Florence laughed. "Is he a nice man?"
 
Ericksen's down-drawn left lip twitched²⁵ as if in repression²⁶ of a grimace²⁷.
 
"Nice is as nice does, hey? I reckon he's all right, Miss Hathaway."
 
"Oh, you mustn't call me that any more," said the girl calmly, and held out her hand. "Look at the present I got an hour ago!"
 
 
 
Ericksen's predatory eyes fastened upon the gold circlet. His face whitened. Tom Dennis, watching intently, saw the man's lips open and form a silent unspoken curse. In the light-blue eyes he read a message of astounded²⁸ incredulity, of passionate²⁹ anger.
 
"You—you've been an' got spliced!" Ericksen, speaking hoarsely³⁰, looked at Florence. His face changed suddenly. He plunged³¹ to his feet and extended a horny hand across the table toward Dennis.
 
"Strike me blind!" he ejaculated. "Took me all of a heap, it did! Well, sir, this is a surprise! And only an hour ago, you say? Congratulations, and may you always have a fair course and a bone in your teeth; aye, and a good cargo³² under hatches! Well, well—strike me blind if I'd thought this was goin' to happen! We'll have a bottle o' fizz-wine, hey? A toast all around—real weddin' dinner! And to think o' me sittin' here with no present, nothin' but an honest sailor-man's hearty good wishes to give—why, it fair breaks me up!"
 
"Oh, we decided³³ to make the trip West our honeymoon," said Tom Dennis, with a smile at Florence. "It was too good a chance to miss, Boatswain."
 
"Then—then you're going, hey? To-night?"
 
"Yes, Mr. Ericksen." Florence nodded. "And believe me, I'd sooner have your good wishes than all the presents in the world! Good wishes mean lots more, don't they?"
 
"Sometimes, miss. Ha—I mean, Mrs. Dennis—sometimes," assented Ericksen solemnly. "And to think o' you springing it on me that way—why, it took me all aback, it did!"
 
So the "fizz-wine" came and was drunk with many toasts.
 
 
 
In the course of the luncheon³⁴ it developed that Florence was to spend the afternoon packing for the trip, and would dine at the school in order to save time. Tom Dennis, who had in view an endeavour to secure orders for some special articles on the West from his former newspaper editors, arranged to call for her in time to make the train that night.
 
Ericksen insisted upon protracting³⁵ the luncheon with a second bottle of "fizz-wine" in honour of the occasion; afterward³⁶ all three departed, and separated at the Adams Street entrance to the "L", where the newly-married couple said farewell to Boatswain Joe.
 
No sooner had they vanished up the stairway than Boatswain Joe made all haste to his hotel. He found no message at the desk; but when he entered his room he found Dumont awaiting him.
 
"You—here! What's up, Frenchy?"
 
Smilingly, Dumont extended him a note Ericksen seized it and examined it with quick approval.
 
"It was very easily done, my friend," said Dumont, yawning sleepily. "So I came here myself. You seem to be irritated, eh? What is the matter?"
 
Ericksen gave vent³⁷ to a full-blown curse.
 
"Matter enough! Here that swab has been and married her this mornin'!"
 
Dumont's brows lifted. He uttered a long whistle.
 
"They are married! Well, Cap'n Pontifex, he will not like that, eh?"
 
"Blast it!" snarled³⁸ Ericksen. "Don't you see what it means?"
 
"More or less," Dumont spat³⁹ out the words with venom⁴⁰. "It means that the Skipper promised me the girl, eh? And that now he will try——"
 
"You bloody⁴¹ fool!" roared Ericksen, smashing his big fist down on the table. "Don't it mean squalls ahead of us all? Don't it mean that instead of havin' her to deal with, now we have him too? Don't it mean that he's signed up for a share in old Hathaway's leavin's? And if we don't scuttle⁴² him, then he'll scuttle us!"
 
Dumont caressed⁴³ his moustache, his dark yes narrowed and alert.
 
"Mille tonnerre!" he ejaculated slowly. "You are right. He is the old man's son-in-law, eh? Ah, but you have the head, my friend! You see the things, yes! And her signature would be no good, eh?"
 
 
 
Ericksen rammed⁴⁴ tobacco into his pipe and held his peace for a moment, until the briar was smoking.
 
"Now," he said shortly, "that train leaves to-night at one bell?"
 
"Eight and the half," assented Dumont with a nod.
 
"He's goin' to call for her about eight bells, see? He'll prob'ly be in his room stowin' his dunnage bag about six bells. You have to scuttle him, Frenchy—all proper. Open the sea-cocks and stand by the ship till she's gone. No mistake!"
 
"And the madame?" queried⁴⁵ Dumont. "Who will call for her?"
 
"I will. And this here note you've written——"
 
"Oh, now I understand!" Dumont chuckled softly. "You have the head, my friend! Good. I must scuttle this fellow, eh? Well, it is for all our sakes now. And by the way, I have taken a compartment⁴⁶, so that I could keep my eye on the suitcase better. The Skipper said to be careful. I had to buy another ticket."
 
Ericksen merely waved his hand carelessly. "You scuttle that swab, Frenchy, and money won't cut no figure. So you'll carry the suitcase, eh? Better send it down to the train ahead of you. 'Don't get your lines tangled,' says the Skipper. You mind that! I'll sleep with you in the compartment, eh? All right."
 
"All right," assented the other. "I'll send the suitcase down to the train. Now see, my friend! Is it not humorous—what you call the paradox⁴⁷? In order to make our little venture legal, we must first keel a man! Is it not droll⁴⁸!"
 
Boatswain Joe thrust forward his head, and so terribly threatening were his arrogant⁴⁹ light-blue eyes that Dumont flinched⁵⁰ a trifle.
 
"Never you mind your laughin'—it ain't time yet, Frenchy! You mind your course, d'ye see? Fall off a couple o' points and things'll be in a mess, see? You mind your course! You and me have big lays in this thing. If it goes through all shipshape, we'll have money. Now, you let her head fall off and there'll be trouble, see?"
 
Dumont spread out his hands, Gallic fashion.
 
"My friend," he said softly, "there is no need for threats. Me, I know what to do. Me, I shall do it, so! But remember one thing, you: on the train, you shall introduce me to the lady, so I shall console her for the absent one. Eh?"
 
"Agreed!" Ericksen made an impatient gesture. "You're a dago and you can't help settin' your course by a woman, I s'pose. But you better watch out, Frenchy. This here one is married."
 
Dumont smiled. "I shall attend to that—to-night."